


Fanfiction: Strike the Slate (ch 2)

by vega_voices



Series: Strike the Slate [2]
Category: CSI/In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-31
Updated: 2011-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> It was his habit to fall for women who were unavailable to him and he needed to quelch his desire before he was broken all over again. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fanfiction: Strike the Slate (ch 2)

**Series:** Strike the Slate  
 **Chapter Two:** Forgive the Trespasses  
 **Author:** vegawriters  
 **Fandom:** CSI/In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Sara Sidle/Marshall Mann  
 **Rating:** M is for Adults Only.  
 **A/N:** Don't shoot me, shippers. This isn't Mary/Marshall. Nor is it GSR. I wanted to explore Marshall falling in love outside of Mary, and thanks to my renewed love of CSI it came together. The story is, however, steeped in Mary and Marshall’s friendship as she opens up to him and he to her and they both find happiness. This is for [](http://siapom.livejournal.com/profile)[**siapom**](http://siapom.livejournal.com/) and [](http://kittyknighton.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kittyknighton.livejournal.com/)**kittyknighton** who have been my cheerleaders as I put this whole idea together.  
 **Disclaimer:** I have no claim on the characters in this story. I make no money and have no ownership. I am however a starving writer and if either show needs a hand, I'm totally available.

**Summary:** _It was his habit to fall for women who were unavailable to him and he needed to quelch his desire before he was broken all over again._

With an exaggerated huff, Marshall placed the last of the boxes in the middle of the living room while she dropped the last of the bins of clothes in her bedroom. The house Sara was renting was comfortable, a two bedroom bungalow with hardwood flooring, arched doorways, and hand carved tile countertops. It was classic, airy, fitting for her.

For a moment, he wondered what her life had been like in Vegas. Something told him it had been about an anonymous apartment full of items she never really used. Maybe she was one of the few who could completely embrace the new start witsec offered, so far, she was thriving.

“You want a beer?” Her voice was close to him, so close, and when he turned, they were standing inches apart. In his fantasies, she looked at him the way she was looking now; mirroring the passion he worried he could not hide from her. He didn’t dare interpret reality in any way other than friendship; his heart couldn’t take it. It was his habit to fall for women who were unavailable to him and he needed to quelch his desire before he was broken all over again.

“Yeah.” He forced a smile to his face, trying to cover up his nerves. Technically, the manual that was his brain lectured at him, because he was with a witness, he was on duty. But, this wasn’t an official visit. He hadn’t filled out a check in form. No, he’d offered the use of his SUV to help tow the small trailer she’d rented for her move from the flea bag motel to a real home. He’d willingly given up his Saturday and blown off Mary’s need to be driven to the mechanic.

Sara laughed and wandered into the kitchen. “I only have Heineken,” her voice washed over him, “hope that’s okay.”

“It’s perfect.” He grinned as she came back into the living room. Her jeans had holes in the knees, her tennis shoes had seen better days, her hair was up under an Isotopes baseball cap. “You’re a baseball fan?” It was a dumb way to start a conversation, but he was desperate for anything to fill the time. He wanted to know everything about her.

“Not really, but I’ve never been into sports,” she’d said with a laugh. “Thought I’d give it a try. This whole thing is about trying new things, right?”

He thought she looked adorable. Her tank top was smudged with dust and he wanted to reach out and brush it away. Instead, Nick, the blue healer she’d adopted, charged out of the bedroom and hopped on the couch with a very proud “yip.”

“Why do I think he just marked some territory?” Sara laughed. “I’m going to go check.”

She disappeared back into the bedroom and Marshall forced himself to breathe. Keeping his hands busy, he focused his attention on one of the boxes. It was labeled and dated and even initialed. Her long years in forensics had created some habits that would never die, he figured.

_Photo Equipment. 1 of 5._

“Nope, no territory marking. Thank God.” Her voice startled him and Marshall jumped back from the box. “Oh, don’t worry about that now. I’ll deal with it later. Sit and relax.” Sara curled up on the couch and Nick promptly curled up in her lap.

Slowly, Marshall followed her example. He settled at the other end of the couch, resisting the urge to rest his arm along the back, letting his fingers brush hers. So he focused on his beer and forced himself to relax.

“Why photography?” He asked, suddenly. Nick leapt from Sara’s lap and went to investigate the box she had opened that contained his toys. He grabbed his squeaky duck and padded into his crate.

“I fell in love with it while I was … working in my old job.” She shrugged. “I think there’s something magical about capturing a single moment in time. That moment will never be lived again, but it is preserved forever on film.”

“Do you like film or digital better?”

“Film, definitely. The second bedroom here is going to be a dark room. But with digital I can do other kinds of manipulation so I’m going to learn to do new things.”

He smiled and felt his shoulders ease.

“Can I ask you a question?” Her voice was soft.

“Of course.”

“How do people do it?”

“Do what? This?”

“Well. I mean … how do people move on and get married and live lives and never talk about their pasts.”

He offered her a smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah.”

“How many people knew about your past, Sara?”

She paused and then stared at her knees. “Fair point.” After a moment, she raised her head. “But, before I could actually get close to anyone, I had to talk about it. I had to open up.”

“To be honest with you, I’m sure that the majority of our witnesses who do meet someone and fall in love eventually divulge the truth. They just don’t tell us about it. As long as they stay safe, I’m okay with that.”

“Really?”

Marshall shrugged. “Sara, I believe in what I do. I believe in everything I swore to when I took my oath. I also believe that there is only so long people can go without connecting to another person.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.” He shrugged. She smiled. “Me too.”

“Why did you hide?” He wanted to take her hand. But he settled for looking at her. For the first time since sitting down, he allowed himself to make eye contact.

She smiled. Sadly. “My father hit me. My mother was schizophrenic. Not exactly a home life to bring friends back to. My mother killed my father. I got dumped into foster care. By the time I made it to Harvard, I just wanted to start over. And then when I got there … believe me. No one wanted anything to do with a kid who came from my background. So I focused on the positives I had. The time we had the Bed and Breakfast in Tamales Bay – that was amazing. Before it all went to hell, you know. And how this foster parent of mine, he taught physics and took me with him to Berkeley and I would sit there in his class. I focused on that. No one cared about the bad stuff.”

He did reach out his hand. Their fingers linked.

“You should go,” Sara shook her head.

“Why?”

“Because sitting here like this, it feels more like two people, not a US Marshal and his witness and I ...”

For the first time, he had almost nearly irrefutable proof that she felt the same way he did. “You aren’t technically my witness and we are still two people, Sara.”

“You want to help me move equipment into my dark room?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to.”

Sara handed him the first of the five boxes and picked up the second. He followed her into the room designated as her dark room. Nick trailed along, keeping careful distance but clearly herding the people from one room to the next.

The room had a long table, a desk, and a chair. She placed her box on the table, turned, and took his box from him. Their fingers touched and Marshall knew it was the sign to get the hell out. He needed to back away, come up with some excuse, and run. He needed to remember he was a US Marshal and he loved his job and he was sworn to protect his witnesses at all costs, even at cost to his life.

But she was beautiful and he’d fallen for her the moment he looked at her and they were alone in her house and no one would know if he leaned in and wrapped his hands around her waist and kissed her so lightly. It was just them and she hadn’t moved from where they were standing.

“Sara …” Was that high pitched squeak his voice?

She smiled sadly, “I know …”

He wanted to be the romantic hero he wasn’t. He wanted to sweep her close and kiss her and then take her into her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake. He wanted to spread her legs wide and watch the blood rush through her body. He wanted to slowly suckle her, feeling her body give way under his ministrations.

He reached out and brushed a bit of fluff from her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, “but I can’t do anything that might put you in danger.”

She stepped closer. “Have you ever broken a rule in your life, Marshall?”

“Plenty.”

“So why not this one?”

“Because,” his voice was still breaking, “if you got hurt, I would never, ever forgive myself.”

“I could always opt out of the program, you know.”

“Don’t even think it,” he shook his head, wanting her even closer, wanting to break every oath he’d ever taken. He could smell the dust on her, the sweat. Quickly, he took a step back. “I have to go, Sara.”

She rolled her eyes just a bit, but nodded. “Okay. I’ll … see you later.”

“I’ll check on you in a couple weeks.”

“Yeah …”

Marshall fled the house. He made it to his car before he turned back to stare at the front door. Sara stood there, arms crossed. “You still have half a beer left, Marshall. Come on back inside.”

He swallowed nervously and headed back into the home.

They didn’t make it back to the couch where their beers warmed in the patch of sun on the coffee table. They barely closed the door before his lips were on hers and she was molded against his body. Long legs tangled together, but they fit perfectly, a jigsaw puzzle finally settling its last piece together.

Her bedroom was a mess and there wasn’t even a sheet on the mattress, but they didn’t care. She went first, under him, and even when he paused, poised above her, he shoved away the last vestiges of logic.

He shouldn’t have come over to help out, or come back inside, or kissed her or slid his hand up under her shirt. “As it is, there’s grounds for you to be relocated and me fired,” he said, trying one for one last chance at sanity.

If it was wrong, it wouldn’t feel so damned good.

It was illogical logic, the stuff of teenagers, but he didn’t care. His hands snaked down and tugged her tank top off her body.

“Then you’ve already crossed the point of no return, haven’t you?” She leaned in and he kissed her again, deeply, and his hand moved down, between her thighs. She was as hot and damp as he was hard.

It was wrong, he knew. He knew the rules. He knew there were eyes everywhere. He knew he was risking his job and her status. For once, he didn’t care. Her hair was as soft as he’d dreamt and the curls tangled around his fingers. She molded her body to him, moaning into the kiss that had started a lifetime ago, and he knew she could feel his physical reaction.

She was perfect. Stretched out on her bed, naked save for soaking satin panties he was pulling down her legs with his teeth. He could smell her want and desire, and he moved his hands up to her hips, parting her legs further, and placed a kiss on her clit. She gasped and reached for him but one taste left him wanting more of the bitterly sweet tang of vanilla and pineapple and a scent that was unique to her. Her long fingers tangled in his hair while his slid into her body and pumped in and out. She was so wet.

He wanted her now. He wanted it to last forever. He watched her face as he worked her body, watched the joy and agony cross her body as she crumpled and trembled in the throes of orgasm. She was his, and his completely.

And he was completely screwed.

_TBC …_


End file.
